


take my hands and make me whole

by holyjongs (komabda)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Athlete! Jongho, Class Differences, Jongho is a Poor Scholarship Student in a Rich High School, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Harrassment, Model! Yeosang, Not Beta Read, People are Snobs, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Yeosang wants to feel human, side woosan yungi and seongjoong, tags will be updated as the story goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29515623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komabda/pseuds/holyjongs
Summary: Yeosang is used to it, being swallowed by the cameras and the nauseatingly glaring lights of the studio. Used to the sharp eyes of photographers and thousands of people around the world on him. Used to feeling more like an object on a pedestal, constantly looked at, admired, desired, but invisible as a human being.In barges Choi Jongho: athletic, confident, never picked up a fashion magazine at all in his life, and Yeosang finds a quiet little freedom that he has always craved.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 21
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This is my first ever Ateez fic and I really adore Jongsang as a pair and so I really wanted to write something about them! It's been really long since I last attempted writing a full, ongoing story so I would sincerely appreciate any kind words that can give me the motivation to continue <3

It’s a balmy Monday morning, the kind that Yeosang can’t quite decide whether he likes or not. The sun is gentle and sweetly insistent in its encroach across the black leather seats, but the giddiness and pressure of a new week looms heavily on his mind. 

“Have a good day at school, darling,” Yeosang’s mum leans across the seat to press a kiss to his temple and smooths down the collars of his neatly-pressed uniform. 

He jokingly nudges her away but doesn’t fight the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. He’d never say it directly to their faces, but he’s genuinely grateful to have overly-affectionate parents instead of the cold, distant ones that his other friends constantly complained about.

His dad twists to look at him from the front passenger seat as the car purrs almost cat-like to a stop in front of the school’s foyer. Yeosang steadily ignores the students in the vicinity that are staring and giggling at the sleek and expensive sedan, his father’s newest and proudest acquisition.

“Seems like you’ve got quite a few admirers,” his dad winks cheekily. “Reminds me of my good old school days.”

Yeosang’s mum rolls her eyes. “I was the only one who even looked at you, honey. Sang, you’ve got everything you need for today?” She fusses over his backpack, checking whether he’d brought the lunch she’d prepared and neatly clasps the button after she’s satisfied that he’s well-equipped.

Yeosang unbuckles his seatbelt and pats his mum’s hand reassuringly, waving his parents goodbye as he smoothly steps out of the car and slings his bag over one shoulder. Facing the looming foyer with its cement columns and marble tiles feels daunting as always, and he takes a deep, steadying breath.

He feels all eyes on him, something that he had never really gotten used to, but he raises his head high and slips on his confident, uncaring mask like always. Ice Prince, they call him, and he finds a degree of discomfort in it. But he supposes it’s better that people keep their distance instead of always clinging to him and trying to make small talk.

“Nice Benz, Kang. New family car?” A boy that Yeosang can’t remember the name of smiles at him, but it’s too wide and fake that he resists the urge to grimace, settling for a polite nod instead. He knows the students here are mostly the children of influential people, and his dad had warned him not to step on anyone’s toes. It was a dance, he supposes, a rubbing of shoulders of wealthy offsprings and he dislikes how careful and poised he has to be.

He walks down the seemingly endless corridor, returning a few greetings and ignoring the particularly loud giggling coming from a group of girls. 

“Hey, Yeosang, I saw your Vogue shoot that came out last night,” a freshman that Yeosang doesn’t recognize blurts out. As he turns his sombre eyes to her, she flushes red and averts her eyes. “You–you looked great!” She stutters out. Taking pity on the way she’s fidgeting and chewing away nervously on her bottom lip, he nods and offers a fairly genuine smile, causing her cheeks to visibly heat up even more.

As the lockers come into sight, he breathes a sigh of relief at the emptiness of the area and yanks open his locker door to shove some books inside, conveniently ignoring the new pile of notes neatly decorated with heart stickers and sparkles. 

He runs through the classes he has today in his head. Calculus, Gym, English, Literature. He’s just glad there isn’t Physics today since his body still hurts from the weekend’s photo shoots and he honestly thinks his spine might snap from carrying around the heavy textbook.

The momentary peace of the moment is shattered as he sees a shadow fall over his shoulder and someone clears their throat behind him. Schooling his face into a calm expression, Yeosang turns around to see who he has to deal with this time.

“Good morning, Yeosang.” Kim Minkwang smiles at him, all predatory and leery. 

Yeosang doesn’t have to search his mental database for long to remember that Minkwang is the son of a prominent politician, but with none of his father’s dignified nature, tact or character. He got into trouble far too often and got out of it even more easily, few people daring to raise complaints against him for fear of retaliation from his family.

As much as he hated to admit it, Yeosang fell into the same category as those people, which is why he found himself mustering an artificially polite smile for the tenth time that day as he greeted Minkwang. 

“Morning, Minkwang. Can I help you?”

Minkwang’s grin grew wider but not any warmer.

“Got a date for the President’s Charity Gala yet?” he asks, leaning casually against the opposite row of lockers and eyeing Yeosang.

“I’m going with Wooyoung,” he replies coolly.

Minkwang snorts. “Jung? Doesn’t he have that boy toy to bring or something?”

Yeosang feels irritation flare up in him but tamps it down carefully. “He’s not a boy toy. And San has World Championships in Russia that day.”

Minkwang rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Why Jung associates with such lowly people is simply beyond me. Anyway, he wouldn’t mind if I stole you away for that night, would he?” It’s a question but Yeosang has a feeling he isn’t exactly being offered a choice.

“Sorry, Minkwang, but I’ve already promised Wooyoung.” He tries to sound firm but his voice catches on the last syllable and doesn’t come out as strongly as he wants it to.

With an exaggerated sigh, Minkwang pushes away from the lockers and comes uncomfortably close to Yeosang, towering over him and backing him up against the locker. Yeosang tries to maintain a neutral expression but he knows the discomfort is showing on his face as the cold metal door presses into his back. 

“Promises can always be broken. And you know that I never take no for an answer, right?” Minkwang’s tone is low and dangerous and Yeosang wonders for a brief moment how the hell he’s allowed to get away with this in public. 

“I want to be seen with the prettiest person at the event next to me, you understand?” All earlier pretense of courtesy has since evaporated and Minkwang’s eyes are dark and threatening, boring into his. The chill of the locker dips unforgivingly into his skin and Yeosang’s composure wavers at how trapped he feels under Minkwang’s gaze. 

A flurry of emotions bubble sourly in his gut. Fear, shame, indignation at being spoken at and talked down to like a lowly object. 

Someone coughs from behind Minkwang. “Is there a problem here?”

Peeking wide-eyed over Minkwang’s broad shoulder, Yeosang sees a shorter, muscular boy with his arms crossed and eyebrow arched.

Rolling his eyes at the interruption, Minkwang turns around. 

“Well, if it isn’t the beggar bitch Choi,” he sneers, ugly and twisting and Yeosang startles at the crudeness of his words.

“It indeed is the beggar bitch Choi,” the other boy replies calmly, startlingly serene in contrast with Minkwang’s aggressive tone. “And this beggar bitch just asked if there’s a problem.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Yeosang sees Minkwang tense with anger at being spoken to so carelessly. If he wasn’t so shaken, Yeosang might have laughed at the audacity of the stranger.

“I’m just talking to Kang here, it’s none of your business. And watch your tone when you speak to me,” Minkwang growls and Yeosang is beginning to feel uneasy at the simmering tension in the air.

“Or else what?” The other boy’s lips quirk up into a smirk, eyes narrowed mockingly. “Your daddy’s gonna get my parents fired? Weren’t you the one that reminded me that I don’t have any?”

A few gasps ring out around them and Yeosang is suddenly aware that a few students have gathered to watch the commotion.

Minkwang pulls away from him and stalks over towards the boy. Yeosang feels the pressure in his chest loosen once he’s no longer crowded uncomfortably against the locker, but an anxiety rises in his throat at the thought of the fight that was about to go down. 

Despite that, he has to admit that he admires the way the stranger stands his ground, an unimpressed look on his face despite Minkwang being a good few inches taller and approaching with menace brimming in his body language. 

The tension in the air is heavy and thick as Minkwang draws nearer, sizing the other up.

“Itching for a fight?” The stranger breaks the silence, rolling his neck and stretching his arms out. “You’re not the only one around here with a reputation, you know?” 

Minkwang hesitates, something rare in his callous, brash nature and Yeosang realizes that the boy must be a real threat. The two of them eye each other coldly, daring the other to throw the first punch.

Despite the gathered crowd, the area is so quiet that the lack of noise pulsates and echoes off the lockers, pressing painfully into Yeosang’s ears. 

Mercifully, the staredown between the two boys is punctuated by the shrill ringing of the first school bell, snapping the fragile trance that had settled around them. The corridor seems to let out a collective, heavy breath as the tension is broken and everyone scrambles off towards their classrooms.

“This is not over, Choi.” Minkwang snarls and pushes past him, leaving Yeosang and the boy alone.

In the vacuum that’s left by Minkwang’s sudden exit, Yeosang feels the reality of the situation rush into him like an unsteady wave. As he reaches out to shove his books in his bag, he notices his hands are shaking and wills them to stop, but they defy him in an act that’s both stubborn and weak.

“You okay?” The other asks, genuine concern evident in his tone and Yeosang pauses, not expecting him to have stayed behind.

Despite his earlier snarky comments and aggressive stance in front of Minkwang, his eyes are wide and warm like honey when they meet Yeosang’s. 

“SANGIE!” A familiar screech charges through the air and he sees Wooyoung hurtle down the corridor from the foyer, long hair flopping and shirt untucked.

“Oh my god I overslept and I’m going to be late and why are you still here, YOU’RE going to be late, Mr Kwon is going to KILL us oh my god let’s go!” Wooyoung grabs Yeosang’s hand and yanks him in the direction of their Calculus classroom before he could say anything else to the other boy.

As Wooyoung drags him down the hall, ranting about how his alarm didn’t ring that morning, Yeosang feels a pair of eyes on his retreating figure and he shivers, resisting the urge to turn around and look. 

It is only when they’re halfway to the next building that Yeosang realizes that he didn’t manage to thank him.

\---

Wooyoung slams them into their seats a generous thirty seconds before Mr Kwon himself steps in and he eyes their panting, dishevelled appearance suspiciously but doesn’t say anything.

“Less than a minute, that’s a new record for you guys,” Yunho whistles, kind of impressed.

“God, it’s not my fault my alarm bailed on me! I almost had to make my driver speed but he’s a sucker for the law.” Wooyoung blows his bangs out of his eyes, leaning back in his seat to catch his breath.

Yunho notices Yeosang is still uncharacteristically quiet and offers a sympathetic smile.

“I heard what happened with Kim Minkwang this morning, Yeo.” Yunho pats him reassuringly on the shoulder. 

Wooyoung’s head whips to Yeosang and he narrows his eyes. “What did that asshole do? Should I do anything to make him sorry?” 

Yeosang shrugs but he knows the nonchalance isn’t fooling his best friends. “He asked me to go to the President’s Charity event with him and I told him I’m going with you but he didn’t want to take that for an answer.”

“God, he’s such a sleazy piece of scum.” Wooyoung scoffs.

Yunho nods in agreement. “Luckily Jongho was there or he might have tried to pull some bad shit.”

At that, Wooyoung perks up. “Jongho? Choi Jongho? The new student?”

Yunho’s brows knit together in confusion at the way they both turn to him at the same time.

“Uh, yeah. He’s here on a sports scholarship or something. There’s none he can’t do, apparently,” Yunho chuckles. “But I heard he gets a lot of shit from the other kids because he’s not rich and, you know,” he lowers his voice and Wooyoung and Yeosang lean in instinctively, “he doesn’t have parents.” 

The earlier exchange between Minkwang and Jongho comes back to Yeosang and makes a hell lot more sense.

“That sucks.” Wooyoung frowns. “Not like most of the people here grew up to become outstanding despite having both parents around.”

Yunho snickers loudly and the three of them startle when Mr Kwon drops his stack of notebooks loudly on the table in front of them.

“Jeong, Jung, Kang, ready for class?” He fixes them with a glare and they gulp, nodding obediently.

As Mr Kwon starts to hand out the notebooks and drone on about derivatives, Yeosang finds his mind wandering back to the boy from the morning. Choi Jongho, with his crossed arms flexed and tense with aggression but with such gentle eyes when he’d asked if Yeosang was okay.

Yeosang doesn’t remember the last time someone looked at him so candidly and humanly and he feels a spark of wistfulness uncurl in his gut. 

But as the class representative hands him his assignment with blushing, rosy cheeks and a giggle, he’s reminded of his place as an untouchable, distant object to be admired from afar.  This ugly feeling smothers the young hope that had earlier bloomed until he feels it gradually winking out of existence.

Yeosang turns his attention back to the board, feeling the familiar emptiness gnawing away inside of him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I actually was only expecting like 1 or 2 comments on my story because the first chapter was really short, but I'm really grateful quite a few of y'all left really nice comments :')
> 
> I'm not really proud with how I'm writing this story at the moment because my language and descriptive skills still feel a little rusty, so I think i'll go back to re-edit some chapters when I have time! I think it'll get better when I reach the more emotional parts because that's where I best use my words so...look forward to that!

It’s not that Yeosang hates physical activity per se, it’s just that he’s never been particularly good at it. He’s long and lean, a little bit too angular and bony at places and lacking the strength needed to succeed at sports.

Which is why he collapses onto the cafeteria bench at lunch after Gym class, groaning loudly as every muscle in his body protests. His sweaty hair sticks pathetically to his face, another reason why he detests exercising. His skin gets flushed too easily and he swears he perspires more than the average person, leaving him feeling gross and clammy.

Being a dancer, Wooyoung has none of the weak stamina or dramatics that Yeosang does when it comes to working out, which is why he nudges Yeosang’s head unapologetically off his seat and dumps his bag on the floor.

Yeosang throws an arm over his eyes. “I can’t believe Mr Lee made us run 10 rounds today because Minhee forgot to bring his stupid gym shorts,” he pants, still slightly lightheaded.

Seonghwa snorts from where he’s seated across Wooyoung, digging into a pathetic-looking salad. “You know the teachers here are on an even bigger power trip than the students.”

The laugh that bubbles out of Yeosang recharges his energy a little, shaking off some of the fatigue clinging to his body. He makes a move to sit up, releasing a surprised “oof” as his core muscles protest and fail on him, causing him to flop back down on the bench.

Mingi snickers next to Seonghwa. “Man, you’re that unfit? Maybe you should hire a personal trainer. Then you can finally get abs and do the topless shoots you’ve always dreamed of.” 

At that, Yeosang uses the edge of the table to pull himself upright and fixes Mingi with a glare. “Not all of us are weird gym rats like you and I do NOT want to do a topless shoot.”

“Who’s doing a topless shoot?” Yunho questions from behind, sounding interested as he slides his tray onto the table. He bends to press a quick kiss to Mingi’s cheek and the other boy beams at him.

“Nobody!” Yeosang huffs out, pretending to be disgusted at the display of affection between the two boys, but they’ve been together for so long that his fake gagging unfortunately no longer has any effect.

“Mingi was just helping Sangie realize his innermost ambitions,” Wooyoung answers matter-of-factly, chasing a cherry tomato with his chopsticks as it slips around in his lunchbox. 

“It’s not my ambition!”

“But Sang obviously hasn’t realized it yet.” Wooyoung lets out a small cheer as he successfully spears the offensive vegetable and shoves it into his mouth. 

Unpacking the lunch his mum had made for him that morning, Yeosang grimaces at the sad sight of a mountain of vegetables and chicken breast.

Yunho seems to share the same sentiment, wrinkling his nose as he glances at the salads that three of them at the table were eating and then back down at his bowl of carbonara.

“I forgot how you guys eat when it’s photoshoot season,” Mingi shakes his head, sensing Yunho’s strong aversion to vegetables and munching on his own fries.

“We got a big one today and tomorrow after school,” Yeosang shrugs. “I don’t really want to bloat before that but you bet I’ll be stuffing my face with pizza from tomorrow night onwards.”

The dreamy sigh that Wooyoung lets out at the thought of junk food is so loud and dramatic that a few heads turn in their direction, but they quickly look away when they realize it’s from Yeosang’s group of friends.

By the weird workings of some higher power, the five of them had somehow gravitated towards each other back in middle school, after Seonghwa and Wooyoung had rescued a near-tears Mingi from a flying roach that had trapped him in the toilet. 

Or at least Wooyoung had tried, but only managed to yell loud enough for reinforcement which turned out to be Seonghwa, a very confused senior attempting to find out why there were girls screaming in the male toilet.

Of course, all he found were two terrified boys and a cheeky pest which he promptly sent straight to hell, earning himself an armload of hysterically grateful Mingi. 

That day at lunch, Seonghwa had been looking around for an empty table when he spotted Yunho and Mingi waving crazily at him, pointing aggressively at the free seat opposite them. When Yeosang and Wooyoung stepped into the cafeteria three minutes later, Mingi recognized Wooyoung from that morning’s traumatizing event and similarly lured them over enthusiastically to sit.

They then fell into an easy friendship, spending every lunch together even years later in high school. Yeosang supposes it’s how they were all so similar despite being so different. He, Wooyoung and Seonghwa moved around in the same social circles within the modelling industry, while Wooyoung, Mingi and Yunho went to the same dance academy.

Truthfully, he didn’t intend to make close friends at school. He expected everyone to be the same breed of spoilt, stuck up, privileged that he had grown up around. Children of powerful businessmen, politicians and diplomats who didn’t know the concept of consequences and accountability, who had no fear and nothing much to lose. 

But his friends, they were solid in character and unyieldingly loyal, openly genuine and supportive of each other. Yeosang doesn’t want to imagine how school days would have been without the little pockets of laughter they shared, the hurried trips to the convenience store after school, the countless afternoons at someone’s house wrestling over controllers and board games.

Yeosang’s sentimental musing is shattered by Wooyoung’s scream as he’s attacked in a sudden hug from behind.

“Oh my god, SAN!” Wooyoung wails, clutching at his chest in shock.

San is doubled over in laughter, but steadies himself enough to plant a sloppy kiss on Wooyoung’s cheek that smoothes out the faux anger lines between his brows and he breaks into giggles.

“Gross, guys, we’re trying to eat.” Mingi pretends to retch, but ends up actually choking, Yunho thumping his back while rolling his eyes.

“I have never heard a more hypocritical statement coming from you,” Yeosang points his chopsticks threateningly at Mingi.

“Before you take someone’s eye out,” San slides smoothly onto the bench in between Wooyoung and Yeosang, “what’s this incident I heard at the lockers this morning?” He fixes Yeosang with a stare so knowing that he has to look down.

Yeosang fidgets a little. “It’s nothing. Kim Minkwang just asked—well I wouldn’t call it asking, he said he wanted me to go to the President’s Charity as his arm candy and when I told him that I’m going with Wooyoung he got really pushy and backed me into the lockers.”

He looks up hesitantly at his friends, surprised at the clear shock and anger on their faces.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me he got physical with you.” Wooyoung is uncharacteristically serious, eyes narrowed.

“I mean, he didn’t touch me or anything. He was just posturing very aggressively, you know how he is.” Yeosang tries to smile weakly but the rest don’t find it funny.

“Yeo, if you need someone to talk to him, please let us know.” Seonghwa is solemn and Yeosang knows if anyone could stand up to Minkwang, it would be him since his father was one rung above Minkwang’s in the Ministry.

The concern in Seonghwa’s tone warms Yeosang, knowing that someone was looking out for him. He hopes his gratitude carries along enough in his nod.

“Anyway, I heard the new kid Choi Jongho gave Minkwang a good talking down to,” San snickers, breaking the tension.

Mingi perks up. “Oh yeah, I had Gym class with him, the guy’s a fucking beast.” The rest lean in with interest. It’s not often they get new transfers to the school, let alone someone so openly defiant of the social structure and hierarchy that permeates the student body. “Never missed a dodgeball throw and never got hit. Shit talks the popular kids too. He’s got balls for sure.”

“He seems okay, though.” San muses, munching on a carrot. “We’re in the scholarship club together and he’s pretty chill. But maybe it’s because I’m not a rich prick,” he shrugs, at ease with his position in the school. His family wasn’t poor by any means, just not brimming obscenely with money and power, which unfortunately still left him to the sneering disdain of the likes of people like Minkwang.

“We’re not rich pricks either, right?” Mingi pouts.

San pretends to think. “Hmm….”

“Hey!” Mingi chucks a fry at him and San laughs, holding his hands up as a form of surrender.

The story of how San came to join their friendship group was no less odd and serendipitous than the original group of five’s despite only becoming a part of them in high school. As a scholarship student, he had to complete a number of service hours and being a book nerd, he jumped at the chance to help out at the library.

One of the nights during finals season, he’d been closing the library up at midnight and making his rounds to chase out the last few stragglers and sleep-deprived students so that he could lock up the place. He almost missed out on the boy slumped over on a table right at the back, but noticed him in time and went over to shake him awake.

Unfortunately for him, Wooyoung had been having an utterly terrible week, rushing between shoots, dance practices and study sessions, culminating in him passing out from exhaustion. No matter how much San shook him, he didn’t wake up and San briefly feared that he was dead if it were not for the faint breathing he could hear in the silence of the library.

Not wanting to leave him in a locked place overnight, San decided to carry him back to his own dorm room since it was just behind the library so that he would have a proper place to sleep. The next morning when he woke up for Taekwondo practice, the boy was still passed out cold in his bed, so he left a short note and his number on the bedside table, along with a bottle of water. They started texting soon after that and quickly became inseparable, officially getting together after a few seasons had passed. 

Looking around at his friends bickering and laughing, Yeosang feels an overwhelming wave of gratitude for the way they all fell into place together.

Suddenly, Yunho squints at something in the distance. “Hey, isn’t that Choi Jongho?”

They all turn to look at a solitary boy settling comfortably underneath the cool shade of a tree, pulling out a book and a packed sandwich. As though sensing eyes on him, he pauses and glances up, directly meeting Yeosang’s eyes. 

Mortified at being caught staring, Yeosang hastily turns back to his friends, who had already moved onto a new topic of conversation.

As he eats his lunch, he can’t help but feel the back of his neck prickle from eyes on him and he suppresses the urge to shiver.

\---------------

“Kang, straighten your back,” the photographer snaps.

The flashing lights in the studio are giving Yeosang a terrible headache and he feels his body protesting from having had to hold multiple poses, but he fixes his posture and hopes it’s enough to satisfy.

“Not so much, you look like a wooden plank.” The irritation in the photographer’s voice scratches at him and he shifts uncomfortably, trying to relax.

He holds his breath to remain still as the camera clicks away but in his tiredness, he makes the rookie mistake of looking directly at the camera flash and is caught off guard when it blinds him, causing him to lose his balance and stumble backwards.

“Are you kidding me?” The photographer glares at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be one of the top up-and-coming models? Why aren’t you doing anything right this shoot?”

Humiliation swells up in Yeosang and he feels tears prick at his eyes.

“You’re crying now? How are we going to continue if your face is puffy?”

Yeosang turns his face away to hide the tears that threaten to spill, tilting his head up to the ceiling and taking deep breaths to keep them in.

“Enough, Mr Lee,” the creative director finally steps in. “Yeosang probably had a tiring day at school today.”

“So?” The photographer sneers. “This is a job and he should treat it like one. That’s why we need models with actual talent instead of rich kids just trying to have fun and look pretty.”

Yeosang feels the words like a kick to his gut and he knows there’s no holding back the tears this time. He’s exhausting, aching, and just wants to go home.

“Mr Lee,” the director’s voice is firm. “I will not have you talking to my models like that. Please take your things and go.”

The photographer scoffs as he packs up his equipment, throwing a final look of disdain at Yeosang before he stalks out angrily.

Yeosang feels a gentle pair of hands on his shoulders and hastily wipes away his tears, turning around to face the director.

“I’m sorry, Miss Kwon,” he sighs. “I had a bad day in school today.” 

It’s not a lie either, the incident with Minkwang still weighs heavily on his mind and the photographer’s unkind words had further stretched that wound open.

Just a pretty face. Just a rich kid. Nothing else.

Miss Kwon smiles at him. “It’s alright, we all have our bad days. Don’t take his words to heart, Yeosang. Maybe you should go home early today and get some rest.”

He manages a watery smile, bowing lowly to her, before shuffling off to the changing room.

Slipping on a casual t-shirt and jeans, he finds the simple material infinitely more comforting on his skin than the thousand dollar fur jacket he had just shed. After a round of bowing to the staff, he heaves his bag onto this shoulder and leaves.

The fresh air outside the studio helps to clear his mind a little and lift his spirits, an evening breeze tumbling carelessly through his hair and tousling it. 

He pulls out his phone, scrolling through the notifications and deeming none of them urgent enough to immediately respond to, before he fires off a text to his driver to pick him up at the usual spot.

Since he has a bit of time before his driver reaches, Yeosang crosses the road to pop into his favorite little cafe, a quaint and quiet little nook tucked away in the corner of the street but with some of the best coffee he’s ever had.

Hearing the bell’s tinkle, the barista at the counter looks up and breaks into a friendly smile.

“Yeosang! Long time no see, been busy lately?”

Yeosang lets the deep aroma of the roasting coffee sink into him, filling his lungs with a grounding comfort.

“Hey Hongjoong, yeah it’s been a lot. Just had a bad shoot.”

Hongjoong winces sympathetically. While he isn’t a model, he aspires to break into the fashion design industry and had done a few internships and knew first-hand how rough shoots could be.

“So what can I get for you today?” Hongjoong’s ready with a plastic cup and a marker, waiting to scrawl Yeosang’s order down.

“I’m thinking a caramel frappe. Need something sweet this time,” Yeosang muses, scanning the chalkboard menu behind the counter. He usually gets an americano but he’s beginning to feel the fatigue really dragging him down and supposes he could use a sugar rush. 

“Hongjoong, do you know where I should stock the spare syrup?” Someone calls from the staff room, voice strangely familiar.

“Here, under the counter!” Hongjoong yells back while writing Yeosang’s name and drawing a cute smiley face on his cup.

“Sorry for the shouting, Jongho’s new and still trying to figure out where all the ingredients are,” Hongjoong laughs. 

_ Jongho…? _

The confusion must have shown on Yeosang’s face because Hongjoong calls for the other boy and he appears from behind the curtain, peeking out curiously at Yeosang.

“Oh, it’s you! Didn’t we meet this morning?” Jongho asks, tilting his head and looking at Yeosang with big eyes. Outside of school and in his barista uniform, he looks much more mature, hair swept back and sleeves rolled up to expose his tanned forearms

Yeosang’s not sure why a blush rises its way up to his cheeks and he suddenly feels exceedingly shy, breaking eye contact and settling for a simple nod.

Jongho shrugs and retreats back into the room. Yeosang sees him leave out of the corner of his eye and looks back at Hongjoong, who’s smirking at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Hongjoong tips the blended frappe into a waiting plastic cup and hands it to Yeosang with a knowing smile. 

As Hongjoong rings up his purchase and Yeosang hands over his card, the curtain rustles and Jongho re-emerges, carrying three large carton boxes.

Yeosang isn’t particularly proud of himself but he knows he’s staring at the way the outline of Jongho’s arm muscles can be seen through the button-down shirt and how prominent the veins running through his flexed arms are.

He belatedly realizes that Hongjoong has been waving his card in front of him, blinking and tearing his eyes away from Jongho.

“Oh! Sorry, I’m really, um, tired.” He takes his card back, cringing at how Hongjoong raises an eyebrow mischievously.

A loud honk from outside startles Yeosang and he looks out of the window, his driver waving at him through the glass from a Bentley convertible.

Hongjoong whistles. “Damn, that’s a nice car. Wonder how many lifetimes I need to work here to afford one.”

Jongho is staring at the car with an unreadable expression and Yeosang has to fight back the sudden wave of self-consciousness that washes over him.

“Thanks for the coffee, Hongjoong. And, um, have a nice day. Jongho too.” The last part comes out more as a mumble and Yeosang grabs his drink, hurrying out of the store without looking at them.

As the driver gets out to open the back door for Yeosang, Hongjoong pats Jongho on the shoulder.

“I know what you’re thinking. But Yeosang isn’t like the other rich assholes. He’s really nice,” he offers a reassuring smile. 

The car’s engine revs loudly and smoothly, drawing the attention of onlookers, some of whom have their phones out to capture the exotic vehicle. 

As the car pulls off, Jongho makes eye contact with Yeosang in the backseat and lifts his hand in a wave, a small smile tugging at his lips as he sees Yeosang flush and awkwardly return it.

“Yeah, hyung. He seems nice.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that not much development happens but I'm just glad I got the meeting part over so I can move on more to interactions hehehe. I'm thinking of writing a short Woosan spinoff because I honestly think that would be kinda cute but...I'll focus on this story first.
> 
> Once again, please leave a comment if you enjoyed this because it really keeps me going!
> 
> Also, I'm on twitter @holyjongs if you want to yell with me about ateez or about writing <3
> 
> Stay safe and healthy!

**Author's Note:**

> As I mentioned, comments keep me going so please leave one if you've enjoyed this thus far!
> 
> You can also reach me on twitter @holyjongs if you want to be friends <3


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